I don’t know why we’d just assumed she wouldn’t be here, but she is, and once again, I realize that her ability to view this relationship so differently from Darren or I is more than a good thing; it’s something we needed.

“Oh my God,” I breathe. “What are you doing here?”

Jourdan’s holding a small popcorn and soda in her hands and grinning down at me. She nudges the seat with my coat, and I snatch it away. She uses her butt to press the seat down, puts her soda in the cup holder, and carefully places her popcorn on the floor at her feet. She bounces toward me with a smile.

“I thought about not coming,” she says, “but I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“We could have called you,” I say, feeling guilty for some reason.

“Oh, really?” she purrs, licking her lips. But then she shakes her head. “Been there, done that. We don’t want to get too comfortable just yet. And this way, you can keep your lines open just in case.”

I can’t believe how soft that last sentence makes me feel.

“Are you nervous?” she asks.

I look around the theater. There’s no one near us, no one close enough to hear what we’re saying, and even if they were, they wouldn’t understand. But I look, nonetheless.

Jourdan laughs. “Yeah, I’ll take that as a yes.”

I jump when her fingers caress my wrist and then dance down my forearm to my elbow. There are goosebumps all over my body.

“I like this dress,” she whispers.

“Darren bought it for me.”

“He bought the robe too, right?”

I nod.

Her palm grazes my hip. “I love the way he sees you. You have no idea how lucky you are.”

Her words make me gasp softly. “Yes, I do. Believe me.”

Her hand moves down my thigh. We’re watching one another while her palm clutches my knee possessively.

I spread my legs for her. I don’t look around to see if anyone is watching us.

I don’t care.

Darren clears his throat, and I jump.

And then I jump again when Jourdan’s fingers graze my mound.

We both turn to him. My eyes are wide, and my mouth falls open.

“Whose idea was it for her not to wear any underwear?” Jourdan giggles.

My husband grunts in response.

connecting

“Sit, babe,” she says, her fingers still lightly stroking my pussy.

Darren’s watching the space where Jourdan’s arm disappears underneath my dress, and, were it not for his blinking eyes, I’d have convinced myself that he was a hyper-realistic statue. But he’s not, and I don’t want him to attract any undue attention, so I grab his wrist and pull him into the seat next to me.

“Don’t sit on her purse,” Jourdan teases, which makes both Darren and I fumble.